


moriche.

by foundCarcosa



Series: Dragonborn Age [1]
Category: Dragon Age, Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-27
Updated: 2013-02-27
Packaged: 2017-12-03 20:33:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/702358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foundCarcosa/pseuds/foundCarcosa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dragonborn Redguard Red Drustan meets an unlikely companion in dim Solstheim -- a tattooed, white-haired Dunmer who doesn't seem to like him but doesn't seem to dislike him, either. Just like another Dunmer he once knew.</p>
            </blockquote>





	moriche.

He finds him at the newly-liberated Sun Stone, a wretch of a 'mer that can barely stand, but at that moment a horror arises from the bubbling ground and Drustan has to send it back to the depths whence it'd come.

When he turns around, shaking his hands as if the fiery spells had scalded them clean through the gloves, the Dunmer is gone.

They meet again in the Retching Netch. Drustan's built up a kind of rapport with Geldis, one based upon a shared love of sujamma and opportunism.  
"Sure is nice not to have that mysterious fog floatin' around my mind," Geldis says appreciatively, wiggling his fingers around his skull for emphasis, and thumps a brimming cup in front of Drustan. "On the house, my friend."

"You," comes a gravelly voice inches from Drustan's ear, and his first swallow of the precious beverage is nearly a choke.

"Me," he returns when he catches his breath, glancing over to see the Dunmer from earlier that day hoist himself onto a stool with a wince. Not dark-haired, like most of the dark elves Drustan'd met, but grey-haired -- it could have been white, maybe, with a good washing. And tattoos like the Redguard had never seen, bluish underneath the layers of grime, on his neck and arms and hands.  
"I remember you. Want a drink?"

The 'mer shoots him a look that reads, _'What do you think?'_ Drustan nods to Geldis, and the man fetches a cup of house ale.

"Why are you here?"

"Name's Drustan," Drustan returns pointedly, sipping from his cup again. "Red Drustan, but you can be leavin' off the beginning part if you want. And that's not how you thank a man for buyin' your first drink of the night."

"Thank you, mage. Why are you here?"

"Hmph. Well." He casts his eyes around the room, appraisingly. "Nice place. Only tavern in Raven Rock that I've seen. Certainly better than whatever it is they tried to give me up at Tel Mithryn. Ever been over there? Bunch o' madmen, I tell you--"

"Not in this tavern. In Solstheim."

"Ah." Drustan raises his cup to his lips again, and so does his interrogator. When Drustan puts his down, it's only a quarter empty. When the Dunmer does, it's drained. "Adventurin' and so forth. Are you going to tell me your name, or not?"

"Not."

"Suit yourself, Moriche." When the 'mer shoots him a sharp look, jaw slackening, Drustan knows he has him.

\--

"Sure is nice to travel with someone again," Drustan says nostalgically, and the Dunmer gives him another of his don't-push-it looks. "Also is nice to be able to go to sleep in one place and still be there when I wake up. Now, to kill this Miraak once and for all..."

"How do you know that word?"

Taken off-guard, Drustan glances at him. He'd finally consented to wearing one of Drustan's coats when the clouds rolled in, and now that it was misting, he had pulled it tighter about himself. "What word? Miraak? Well, I mean, I _met_ him--"

"Not Miraak, mage. The one you call me."

Drustan's lips twitch. "I'll tell you if you tell me why you haven't stopped scowling since I've met you."

Moriche scowls.

"See, there you go again. Nah, I've no problem tellin' you. Had a friend once, Dunmer, like you. Name of Llovyn. He... well, he's a studyin' type. Is at the College of Winterhold now, surrounded by books. Doesn't gotta hunt dragons with me no more." Drustan's words are tempered by his faint smile. "Anyway, he taught me some of the Ayleid tongue, just because he liked to share knowledge, you know? Good man, Llovyn. But dark, just like you."

Moriche is quiet for a time. The wind picks up, a dusting of white on the ground before them signalling the rise in altitude. Thirsk Hall can be seen just over a rise, a lone construct.

"That is where you stay?" The Dunmer's voice is disbelieving, and Drustan doesn't miss the quick once-over that he is given.

"It's secluded, it's warm, and when I come back from Apocrypha screaming and clawing my face off, I won't have to explain to nobody." He clears his throat. "Well, unless you're still here when I get back. Y' don't seem to like me much."

"I haven't killed you, have I?"

"My friend, you are in no state to kill anyone," Drustan laughs, thumping the Dunmer on the back, and he staggers, scowling yet again. "Come inside. There should still be meat..."

\--

"You will... open that. And it will take you to... _him."_ Instead of saying 'Miraak', he curls his lip and spits out the pronoun, instead.

"Yes." Drustan eyes the Black Book with more than a little trepidation. "I wouldn't do it if I had a choice, trust me."

"You do have a choice." He can feel Moriche's eyes boring into his forehead, but he doesn't raise his eyes. "There is always a choice."

"Well, I choose to finish what I started. This Miraak has enslaved people, tortured them, splattered this land with blood, and for what? Glory? _Feh._ I'll give him the glory of a dramatic death."

"You like to talk, don't you."

Drustan's lips twitch into a quick, wry smile, and he busies himself with clearing a space and setting down the Book. "Llovyn said that a lot."

Moriche studies him whilst he prepares, and Drustan doesn't know what he's looking for, nor does he ask. As far as he knows, the Dunmer is planning on stabbing him the next time his back his turned. As far as he knows, the Dunmer is only following him to see how much Drustan has, and how he can get what Drustan has. As far as he knows, the Dunmer is looking for a free trip to Skyrim, or--

"Fenris," the Dunmer murmurs, stepping back just as Drustan cracks the Book open. "My name is Fenris."

When Drustan is spat back out of Apocrypha, staggering and blinded and bathed in dragon's blood, Fenris takes his arm and firmly leads him to a chair.


End file.
